The Vision Quest
by roosmith
Summary: Coyote meets Mercy for the first time (and becomes aware of her) during her vision quest. When they meet again, Coyote mentions that he checked in on her and was sent away by Charles. Here is the story of Charles sending her on the vision quest and later, letting Coyote know that Mercy belonged in Aspen Creek


He heard her scuffing the road with her feet as she made her way to his house. He didn't bother to look up from under the hood of the truck. He knew she knew he could hear her approach. Her sullen, pouty, marginally rebellious approach. She was taking her time getting here and if she did not pick up her pace a little, she risked being late. Always pushing the boundaries. Never fully disobeying but walking the fine line.

Knowing she could not see his face, he smiled. He appreciated her spirit in spite of himself. He had thought his father was making a huge mistake when he agreed to take in the tiny coyote shifter all those years ago. She was vulnerable and weak and an easy target for the angry, often unstable wolves who made Aspen Creek their home. But she had held her own – hell, she had more than held her own, keeping them all running after their tales trying to keep up with her. She was mischievous, intelligent and strong willed, refusing to cow to anyone, even his father . . . which is what was bringing her to his house today and every other day so far this month, punishment for disobeying the Marrok. At least, he knew, that is how she saw it.

The truth of the matter was that she had scared his father senseless. Scared him more than anyone had ever seen before. Even now, Charles is pretty sure that only he and his brother Samuel know just how scared the Marrok had been when he arrived at the crash site, praying to find her alive. His father had torn through the rubble of his Porsche with a frenzy few people get to witness. The Marrok was convinced she had finally managed to get herself killed and both he and the beast that lived inside of him were desperate to be proven wrong. So when he found her, unconscious without a mark on her, he had felt a rage of relief that scared even his sons.

Determined to keep her out of trouble, he set Charles up to watch her for the summer, teaching her the mechanics of cars. Charles sensed his father's beast riding on the edge of his father's temper and wisely did not protest this babysitting assignment. Looking at his father's eyes change back and forth between wolf and human, Charles figured it would take at least as long as the summer months for his father to calm down over her latest life threatening stunt.

She sulked up to the hood of the truck and stood there, refusing to be the first to speak. Charles knew he frightened her; he frightened everyone. Her silence was as close to open defiance as her fear allowed. Charles liked her, cared for her even, but he would not let her know such things. He continued to poke around under the hood, letting her stand there in silence for several minutes, knowing the quiet and lack of acknowledgement would put her on edge.

She cleared her throat. Charles allowed himself a second smile before he cleared his expression and looked up at the rebellious fourteen year old standing in front of him. She glared. He raised one eyebrow in response to her borderline challenge. She immediately lowered her eyes and fidgeted.

Finally, unable to stand the pressure, she spoke, "So what are we working on today?"

He stared at her for a few more beats to see if she would be brave enough to raise her eyes. Sometimes, when she was feeling especially feisty, she did. Brother Wolf was equally fond of Mercy, so she was in no danger from him. He found her challenges amusing, like a lion with a young cub. It was Charles who would not – could not – tolerate her challenges. Because he understood she could not let her guard down around the other wolves for one second. He, Samuel and the Marrok considered her family, untouchable. But other wolves, his father's mate for one, would see Mercy dead with a smallest provocation or excuse. Only his father's iron fist kept Mercy from constant harm, or worse, death. So Charles understood that he needed to keep Mercy on her guard, showing respect to the wolves and giving them no excuse to break his father's order.

While Mercy kept her head bowed, waiting for his acknowledgement, he picked up the rag laying on the side of the engine and rubbed his hands clean. He closed the hood of the car with a bang that caused Mercy to jump and then he grabbed the bag he had leaning against the front tire of his car. Slinging it over his shoulder and stepping away from the car, he gestured for Marcy to follow him.

Startled, for a moment Mercy simply stood in place and watched Charles walk away from the truck they had worked on every day for almost a month. Charles did not bother to turn around or slow down. He knew Mercy would follow. Eventually, Mercy recovered and trotted after him. They walked in silence for several minutes, traveling deep into the forest that surrounds the town.

Finally, Charles spoke, "It is time for your vision quest."

Giving a side glance at Mercy, he could tell a hundred questions were bubbling to the surface but to her credit, she remained silent. He walked her deep into the woods until he came to the clearing he had prepared ahead of time. For three days, he made her fast and meditate. Charles was amused to realize that only her fear of him kept her mute and obedient. He had a similar experience when his grandfather had taken him on his vision quest many lifetimes ago.

At the end of the three days, he stood up and pointed deeper into the forest, off towards the mountains.

"Head to the mountains," he said, "and do not shift into your coyote form. Stay human."

He turned to head back into town when Mercy finally spoke, "For how long? When can I return home?"

Charles lifted his mouth slightly. Not enough to be a smile but enough to convey mirth. "You will know."

And with that last comment, he returned home to wait for the coyote girl's return.

His father was waiting for him, leaning against the old clunker that Charles and Mercy had been working on all summer. The Marrok looked at ease, as if he did not have a care in the world. Charles sighed. That pose told him his father was not happy with him. Charles maintained his easy pace as he approached his father.

The Marrok did not wait for Charles to make it up the driveway before speaking. "I was surprised when I visited your house three days ago to find both you and Mercy missing."

Charles looked out in the direction of the mountains. Tapping the side of his head, Charles answered, "So you said."

His father had been very vocal about his shock and displeasure at finding them gone. Of course, the Marrok can only send thoughts into others' heads; he cannot receive them.

Bran pushed off the car, agitated. "I am sure you have more to say than that."

"I was under the impression that Mercy was under my supervision for the summer. I thought you said I should do whatever it takes to keep her alive and out of trouble."

Bran gave a low growl at the obvious challenge in his son's words. "Where. Is. Mercy."

Charles looked at his father, careful not to make eye contact with the old wolf. "She is safe; Brother Wolf and I would not see her harmed. But some things you cannot understand or help her with."

Bran's shoulders eased a little at hearing her is safe but the growl was still in his voice when he said, "Explain."

Charles lifted one shoulder slightly in a shrug, "She is Indian. She is of an age."

Understanding passed over his father's face, "Vision quest."

Charles nodded once.

"You could have told me," Bran said, his voice accusing. "I would have agreed."

Charles looked up and briefly met his father's eyes before looking away. "This is something separate from you. I did not need agreement. Mercy is not pack."

His father's temper flared; Charles could feel the power pulsing toward him.

"She is MINE. Mine to protect and guard. Mine to guide as I see fit."

So, his father was still not over the epic car crash that could have killed Mercy. Even a month was too insignificant an amount of time to cool his father's fear and anger. Charles bowed his head in submission but said nothing. His father knew Charles was right and any words he might say would only fuel his father's anger.

As quickly as his anger started, Bran's temper cooled and was replaced with a sadness so deep it held weight in the air.

"No," he said so quietly that if Charles were not werewolf, he would have missed it, "she is not pack. She does not have the protection pack members automatically receive. She is not safe from pack – or from her own self-destructive nature. And I fear I am ill-equipped to protect her."

Charles huffed, "We keep her safe from pack – you, me, Samuel. As for her nature, she is not self-destructive. If your mind was not clouded with visions of that destroyed Porsche, you would see it too. Rash, yes. Stubborn, always. Hotheaded too. But even with all she has been through this year . . . losing Bryan and his wife . . . she is still vibrant with life."

His father turned and walked to stand where he had a clear view of the mountains. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake loose some of the tension. Watching his father, Charles frowned.

"You are worried she is suicidal?"

Bran turned to look at him, the wolf in his eyes; he didn't respond. He did not need to respond with words. His eyes said enough.

Charles shook his head, "That girl does not have one ounce of quit in her. Not one. I do not know what it would take to break her but I know that Bryan and Evelyn's deaths didn't. She is broken hearted – but she is not broken."

Bran looked relieved. He bowed his head. "I was so convinced she was fine. That she was holding together. So sure she would get through it . . . and then I saw all that twisted metal, and I knew, I knew she was dead. And all I could think was that I should have known she was broken. I should have watched her more carefully. I shouldn't have left her alone for a second. But I did and my arrogance killed her."

Charles snorted. "Mercy lost control of a car she should have never been driving. No part of that accident was anything other than teenage overconfidence."

Bran nodded but Charles could tell he was distracted. After a moment, Bran shook himself off, and Charles knew the topic was closed. Bran walked over to his truck and opened the driver side door.

"You'll let me know when she returns?"

Bran did not wait for Charles to respond before climbing in his truck and driving down the road toward home. Charles sighed and headed into the house to wait for the little coyote.

When Mercy finally did resurface, Charles was a little shocked by her appearance. She was covered with cuts and bruises, her hair and clothing a mess. She seemed shaken and subdued. Charles assured her into his house and sat her down at his dining room table. After making her tea, he set the cup in front of her and took the seat across from her. Keeping his body loose and open, he asked her about her vision quest.

Mercy's tale was a daunting tale of broken homes and ruins of ages. Of damaged cars with feelings and forests with oppressing Spirits. It intrigued him, this tale that seemed to be part of the modern age and part of the Indian history. The story was bazaar; he wondered what the spirits were trying to tell this young half-Indian girl. The only moment that concerned him was her meeting with Coyote. That is one Spirit who causes great mischief, and the last thing Mercy needed in her life was someone adding to the mischief she manages to create on her own.

When she reached the end of her tale, Charles could not help but ask if she had eaten something that had made her sick. She looked offended as she answered 'of course not.' Charles looked away so she would not see his smile.

She sat there in his dining room, drinking luke-warm tea and looking miserable. Charles knew she was waiting for him to interpret her vision, to help her make sense of what she had experienced. He knew because he had looked to his grandfather for the same answers. But vision quests are personal. Any comments from Charles would be tainted by his life experience, his issues. Mercy needed to figure out the meanings on her own.

He allowed her to sit a while longer before dismissing her and sending her home. He reminded her to return the next morning to continue their work on his truck. Her eyes narrowed with temper, but she left the house without further comment. Once she was gone, Charles picked up the phone and dialed his Da.

As soon as his father picked up, he said, "She is back and headed home."

His father was quiet for a moment. Then he said a quick thank you before hanging up. His father knew better than to ask about the vision quest.

It was a few months later, when life had settled back down into a routine, when Charles _felt_ a Spirit's presence in the woods close to town. The pack was out running in the full moon; Mercy running next to Samuel who guarded her from the others. As they dodged among the trees, Charles felt the eyes of the Spirit. Minor spirits were a constant presence, even at Aspen Creek, but the Great Spirits avoided this place claimed by the Marrok and his Power. Even without further investigation, Charles knew which Spirit had dared to invade his father's territory. Coyote.

Charles circled back around, through a cluster of evergreens. Walking toward the spot where Coyote stood, watching the pack, Charles changed to his human form. Brother Wolf was equally offended that someone had dared invade their territory. Charles took a moment to convince Brother Wolf to let him handle the situation.

Coyote leaned casually against a tree and smirked. Without looking away from the wolf pack, he said, "I was wondering how long it would take for you – or the scrawny old wolf you call boss – to notice me. I must admit, you took longer than I thought."

Charles growled.

Coyote threw his head back and laughed. "A little touchy, aren't you?"

"You can leave."

Coyote tilted his head to look up at Charles, his face growing serious. "She is one of mine. I have the right to check in on her, to make sure she is coming to no harm."

"She belongs to my father and to this pack. She has belonged to my father since she was dropped off here by her mother as a baby. I do not recall you showing any care or consideration for her then," Charles paused for effect, "or at any time in the last fourteen years."

Coyote's face froze, the creatures of the wood went silent and still with fear as they sensed the change in mood from the Spirit. "I did not know of her then," he said quietly.

Charles snorted, "She is of you. Am I to believe you did not sense her existence?"

Coyote frowned and shook himself off, "I do not explain myself to _werewolves_. She is mine, even your father would have to agree."

Charles' stared at the Spirit for several heartbeats. "I dare you to ask him," he said quietly. "Open up that can and see what happens. My father thinks of Mercy as one of his own – part of him. He will not relinquish her, not even to the likes of you."

"She is NOT pack – can never BE pack. What protection, what assurances can you and your father offer from the rest of the mongrels that run with you?"

"We have been her _family_ all her life. She belongs _here_."

"She is _coyote _. . . tell me, what did she see during her vision quest? When you sent her into the woods to discover herself and to find who will guide and protect her . . . did she see wolves, or even one wolf? Or did her journey end with _me_?"

Charles forced his body to relax, pulling an air of calm around his. He would not allow Coyote to cause him to lose control. Despite his best efforts, when he raised his eyes to meet Coyote's, Brother Wolf was staring out. Coyote flinched and after staring back for the count of three, looked away, up out over to where he could see the pack running free in the distance.

Coyote sighed, "She is happy here?"

Coyote's question, filled with doubt, allowed Brother Wolf to cede control back to Charles. Charles looked in the direction of the wolf pack. Even from this distance, he could pick out the little coyote running toward the back. She looked free and full of life.

"She is happy."

"You will watch out for her?"

Charles thought of her recent car accident and of the other times she carelessly risked her life . . . then he thought about his Da and his brother Samuel . . . how they would kill to protect her . . .

"Always have."

"Even from herself."

Charles smirked and shook his head. "As much as we can."

Coyote smirked and shook his head in return. The two of them stood in silence for several minutes, watching the pack run in the distance. Charles looked over at Coyote. He could see the worry in his eyes.

"She is not as troublesome as she could be."

Coyote laughed. "Glad to hear it. My children tend to be rash."

Charles nodded his head once and then gave Coyote a sly look, "Perhaps being raised in a wolf pack under the power of my father has tempered some of that."

Coyote looked down, shaking his head. "I am sure you'd like me to think so." He kicked at the dirt with his boot. "I am still not convinced leaving her here with you all is a good idea."

"I am not sure you have a choice."

Coyote looked up. For the first time, Charles could see the Power in his eyes. "Do not test me, _boy_. She stays only with my blessing. She is . . . precious . . . to me. Her existence is a revelation you cannot begin to understand."

Howling could be heard in the distance, followed by the unmistakable yipping of a coyote as they happily gave chase to the hunt.

The fight seemed to drain out of Coyote. "And yet, even I can see she would not wish to be taken away from this place."

He pushed away from the tree and started to walk deeper into the forest. After several steps, he looked back at Charles, "I will meet her again, I think. Ours are lives of shared purpose. In the meantime, you and yours are responsible for her. If something happens to her . . ."

Charles nodded, "No threats required, Coyote. She is ours to protect. You've seen she's happy. Time to move on."

Coyote took one more look out into the night, in the direction of the wolf pack. Then he nodded and disappeared into the forest. Charles felt the moment Coyote's hold on the woods released, the forest creatures returning to their lives. He closed his eyes and stood there for several minutes, enjoying the sounds of the nature around him.

"What was that about?"

Not many people can sneak up on Charles. As a matter of fact, only two came to mind, his brother and the man standing next time at the moment. He looked over at his father, who was naked and still shaking a little from the change.

After taking a moment to recover from the surprise, he responded, "Nothing worth bothering you about."

His father gave him an inscrutable look. "You sure? I felt . . . something . . . invade our territory."

Charles kept his body language light and relaxed, "I am sure," he said, "Just a Spirit passing through."


End file.
